Blood Price (7 page)

His harsh laugh surprised her. “What men, Nikia?”

She ignored her own advice about being discreet and whirled around to survey the lobby. Her eyes widened when she saw the men had gone. She swept her gaze around the room a second time but came up with the same tally of guests and it didn’t include any of the men in suits. Her shoulders drooped and she turned back to Atar. “Forget it. I must have imagined things.” She followed him up the stairs without speaking, knowing her mind’s eye hadn’t conjured up a game of intrigue to distract her. Those men had been there, waiting for her but she couldn’t prove it.

A disheartening possibility occurred to her. What if Atar wasn’t working alone? Maybe the men were his backup, positioned there in case she escaped. Or maybe Anca had tired of waiting for Atar and decided to send more men to assist or supplant Atar. Whatever their purpose, she knew the watchers weren’t innocent bystanders. She would have to be alert for herself and Atar. Most importantly, she would have to take into account their presence when she made her escape. She would only have one chance and she couldn’t let them stop her.

* * * * *

Her wrist ached almost as much as the constant throbbing in her head that increased by the hour. Nikia rubbed the cuffed appendage with her free hand but the massage provided little relief. “This is ridiculous. Where would I go, locked in the suite?”

Atar looked away from the football game playing via satellite on the big-screen TV. His expression held no trace of pity or remorse. “I’m not taking any chances.”

Frustrated, Nikia tugged on the cuffs binding her to the headboard of the bed. Atar had propped pillows to allow her to sit up but the position was uncomfortable. When the metal headboard refused to budge, she shot daggers from her eyes at him. “Do the words cruel and unusual mean anything to you?”

He chuckled before sipping the beer ordered from room service. “You aren’t an American,
Princess
. The Protector told me to do whatever I had to, just as long as I returned you to Corsova.” He returned his attention to the game, making it obvious the conversation was over.

With a sigh, she tried changing her tone. “Very well but may I take a bath? You could lock me in the bathroom.” She hoped the hot water would soothe the migraine forming, since she was too keyed up to rest properly.

He sighed loudly, expressing annoyance with the abrupt way he clicked off the TV. “Of course, Your Highness. I live to serve you.”

She was accustomed to hearing the phrase but not in such a sardonic way, accompanied by the lip curl and disgusted expression. She held off the retort that wanted to fly from her tongue, certain he was spoiling for a fight, despite his surface lack of interest in anything she did. All she wanted was some peace and quiet, along with a tubful of bubbles, so she could be alone with her thoughts.

He rose from the sofa and walked to the bathroom, leaving her cuffed to the bed. Nikia waited, trying to ignore her arm’s fatigue. When he finally emerged, she shifted her position. “Well?”

“I can’t secure the door to the other bathroom properly, so a bath is out.”

She glared at him. “I’m tired, dirty and annoyed. A bath isn’t much to ask.” She pointed at his still-damp hair. “You’ve had a shower, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “Fine, but we do it my way.” His coiled gait betrayed the tension in his muscles, making a mockery of his indifferent expression. He unlocked the cuff binding her to the bed but left the other side around her wrist. With a gentle tug, he urged her from the bed, grasping the other side in his hand.

Confused, she followed him into the spacious bathroom. A Jacuzzi tub took up a large section of the black tile floor, with an assortment of oils and gels arranged in a plastic basket hanging from the lip of the tub.

“Strip.”

Her eyes widened. “What? I thought you didn’t want me. You don’t trust me, remember?” She angled her chin up a notch, facing him defiantly. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him but wasn’t going to be his plaything, to pick up and toss aside at his whim.

An enigmatic smile flashed briefly across his stony expression. “I don’t trust you. I thought you might prefer to bathe without your clothes but it’s your choice.” He pointed to the gold handle atop the lip, in place to grasp when exiting the tub. “You’ll be cuffed there and it will be awkward to remove your clothes post-cuffing but…” He shrugged.

Flames swept through her cheeks and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She bit down the humiliation assaulting her. “Turn your back,” she bit out through clenched teeth. To her surprise, he complied without protest, even releasing the cuffs so she had two hands.

Briefly, her eyes strayed to the door but she discarded the idea of escape almost as soon as it occurred to her. She wouldn’t even make it to the door of the suite before he caught up with her. She turned her attention to the task of undressing, finding the buttons unusually difficult to manipulate with shaking hands. When she stood in nothing but her bra and panties, she said, “I’m ready.”

He turned back to her with a bland expression. One eyebrow quirked. “That’s a new way to wash clothing.”

“I’ll be able to get them off with one hand.”

He waved to the tub. “Have a seat,
Princess
.”

She stomped forward but whirled around to face him two steps from the tub. “Stop calling me that in such a hateful tone.”

His cool laughter was as infuriating as the sarcastic manner he’d taken on when addressing her. “My apologies,
Princess
.”

Anger propelled her hand, causing her palm to fly toward his cheek. Only his quick reflexes kept her hand from connecting with his face. Her eyes widened with horror at her actions but the apology died on her lips when she met his eyes. Fury simmered there and her heart lurched at the first sign of emotion other than the cool indifference or sardonic indulgence he had shown her since the plane landed a few hours ago. Excitement stirred in her when the antagonism gave way to blazing desire so hot it scorched her skin when his eyes raked over her lithe form in the ivory set. She trembled, besieged by the surge of desire crashing over her. She relaxed her hand in his and his tight grasp on her wrist changed to a light caress. Nikia took a step toward him, hoping he would meet her halfway. A second later, he crushed her against him, his mouth devouring hers.

She parted her lips, taking a gasping breath just before his tongue invaded, sweeping through the moist recess, stealing her remaining breath. Lightheadedness swept over her but it was a pleasant sensation, born of arousal. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, using him to anchor herself. Still, she floated on a blissful cloud, tethered to reality only by his hard arms.

Atar forced back her head and his mouth moved from hers, going lower, to burrow against her neck, at the curve of her shoulder. He drew a fold of skin between his teeth, nipping gently. She cried out as pulses of electricity emanated from the spot, shooting down her spine.

He seemed to sense her reaction, because one of his hands cupped her lower back, and a single finger feathered up and down a few inches of her spine before he ventured lower, to cup her buttocks, pressing her pelvis against his. Her pussy soaked the ivory panties when encountering his hard cock. She arched her hips, wanting nothing more than to have him slide inside her. “Atar, please.”

He left her neck and moved higher, swirling his tongue around her lobe. He breathed her name into her ear while thrusting forward, pressing his cock deeper against her silk-clad pussy. “Nikia,” he whispered again and his breath reignited the throbbing electricity shooting through her.

He squeezed her buttocks as his other hand cupped one of her breasts. She arched her back when he drew his thumb across the hardened nipple, creating friction with the silk and lace of the bra. She buried her hands in his hair, intent on bringing his mouth back to hers, needing to taste him again.

He had other plans, resisting the direction her hands wanted him to go and lowering his head to her breast. His tongue laved her nipple, while the other received attention from his ardent thumb. She arched her back, offering more of her breast to him, while keeping her hands in his hair. The silky locks caressed her hands. Smelling of vanilla, she longed to bury her nose in his hair and lose herself. She would have done so, if it wouldn’t require his mouth leaving her breast. She wanted him to stay there forever.

The Muzak version of
Beethoven’s Fifth
broke them apart with a start of surprise. Atar panted, color glowing in his cheeks. His hair formed a chaotic cloud around his face and his clear eyes burned with liquid heat. “That’s the cell phone the Protector instructed me to bring.” He was hoarse and cleared his throat when he turned away from her to reenter the master bedroom of the suite.

Nikia walked to the doorway, straining to hear his side of the conversation over her thudding heart.

“Yes, Highness, I have acquired her.”

She frowned at his succinct speaking manner, wondering how he could be so cold when she still burned so hot.

“We should return by tomorrow evening. Our flight for Constanta leaves in the morning and we’re booked on the evening train to Bulgainia.”

She didn’t bother to listen to the rest. Turning away, she went back to the tub and turned on the water. The cuffs clinked against the faucet when she twisted the hot water but she paid them little attention. What did it matter if he kept her cuffed or didn’t? Their embrace had changed nothing. He might want her but didn’t trust her. Atar still planned to return her to Corsova and she couldn’t accept that fate meekly. They were at an impasse and only her escape would shift the balance to her favor.

Disheartened, she listened to the water filling the basin but her eyes didn’t see. She looked past it, trying to sort out her conflicting emotions. She knew very little about Atar, except he liked his privacy, was an honorable man and sexy as hell. How could that scant information lead her to the budding feelings consuming her? Why couldn’t her heart stay out of the matter? Couldn’t it respect her body was already confused enough, without throwing emotions into the mix?

One side of her mouth quirked. Here she was, blaming her heart, as if it were a puppet master controlling her, when she was the pulling the strings. If she felt anything for Atar—and she wasn’t ready to admit it was more than a powerful attraction—only her own weakness allowed it.

She looked down and turned off the tap, realizing the water level had settled near the top. She glanced over her shoulder, noting the door was still open but Atar wasn’t in sight. She didn’t hear him speaking, so the phone conversation must have ended. Maybe he was extending her an ounce of trust by letting her bathe without the cuffs.

Nikia shed the bra and panties before sliding into the water. She pressed a button and the water bubbled around her. Leisurely, she lifted bottles one at a time from the plastic basket, unscrewing their caps to sniff them. She settled on a Vanilla-Hazelnut blend and tipped the entire contents of the small bottle into the churning water. Foam quickly formed, rising to her neck.

She selected the accompanying bar soap and washed quickly. Then she leaned back against the padded lip, letting her eyes close, focusing on disconnecting herself from the pulsing anguish consuming her head. Slowly, she slid under the water to wet her hair, hoping to massage away some of the tension while shampooing. When she came up, she fumbled for a washcloth to remove the bubbles from her face.

There wasn’t an exact match in shampoo, so she chose the Vanilla, deciding she would smell like an exotic dessert by the time her bath was over. With a laugh that was only slightly forced but did little to relieve her anxiety, she worked a handful of shampoo through her short hair in leisurely strokes but found it did little to ease the pain. Giving up, she ducked under the bubbles again.

She worked the cleanser from her hair with her fingers, letting the repetitious movement drain some of her tension, though it did nothing for the headache. A popping sound caused her to freeze. It sounded similar to the cork in a champagne bottle releasing and she surfaced eagerly, hopeful Atar was making some romantic gesture.

Out of the water, the second popping noise sounded just like a gunshot was supposed to, followed by the splintering of wood. Before she had a chance to react, Atar rushed into the bathroom.

“Get out. Shooting…we have to go. Now!”

His urgent tone forced her paralyzed muscles to work, and she hopped from the bath in a bound, splashing water all over the floor. Atar grabbed her arm and started dragging her to the door that led to the other bedroom in the suite. “Wait, I’m naked—” She broke off as another gunshot sounded. More wood broke and the door crashed against the wall.

She didn’t worry about her unclothed state any longer. As they ran past the hooks, Nikia grabbed a hotel bathrobe. Atar hadn’t released his hold on her arm, so it was a struggle to pull on the garment with one hand.

In the second bedroom, her wet feet hit the hardwood floor and she went down hard, landing on her elbow, sending a jarring pain through her head. She cried out in pain and Atar whirled to face her. He hesitated only long enough to lift her to her feet and make sure she could stand before running again. The heavy thud of rushing footsteps followed them.

The sound of skids came from the bathroom, followed by a thud. “Fucking water,” a man shouted in German.

Atar had taken her arm again, leaving Nikia unable to massage her elbow. She turned her head to look behind them but froze when she saw slippers wrapped in a paper band on the floor beside the bed. She pulled away, saying, “Shoes,” as she hurried over to scoop them up.

She barely had her hands around them when Atar lifted her over his shoulder and ran out of the bedroom, plunging into the hall. The stunned gasp of an elderly couple greeted them and Nikia caught a brief glance at their shocked expressions from her perch on Atar’s shoulder as he ran past them.

As Atar thundered down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to her weight, she fumbled with the paper band on the slippers. When it ripped and fluttered to the ground, a twinge of remorse assailed her for littering. It disappeared when she looked up and saw three men in dark suits chasing them. They were the same men she had seen milling about the lobby a few hours ago.

She flinched when Atar threw open the door to the stairwell, knocking her ankle against the solid metal. She struggled to get down but he tightened his hold on her and kept going, making it to the bottom of the first flight before the door above them opened.